


A Broken Yolk

by write_in_ice



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Broken Will, Cannibalism, Cooking, Dream Sequence, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Gen, M/M, Manipulation, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Murder, Mutilation, Rape Fantasy, Rape/Non-con References, Sexual Tension, eating people, empathic rape fantasy, extreme violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-12 02:22:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/806056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/write_in_ice/pseuds/write_in_ice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Conceived from Kink meme prompt of basically: "Hannibal manipulates a murder scene to get Will off" (We'll get there eventually).</p><p>Will's mind is making connections he doesn't want to make. Hannibal tells him things he doesn't want to hear. A new investigation pushes Will's limits in more ways than one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ongoing. Rated high for violence and people eating in later chapters. I have a gruesome murder all planned out. Go me! As always, comments are extremely welcome.
> 
> Cheers! (Beer is people)

Grass tickled Will Graham’s ankles as he walked through the open field. He didn’t know where he was, but his feet dragged him forward, on and on, until he saw a familiar shape in the distance. Crows cried as they circled on the horizon and his mind painted a picture—the pecking of beaks, the ripping of flesh.  Three of the birds perched on the antlers of the severed stag’s head, eying him and beckoning him closer.  He could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand as the wind vanished, replaced by the ominous sound of breath. It was guttural and slow—not quite animal and not nearly human. A shadow draped over him and he knew he was no alone.

He licked his lips and ignored the feelings welling up inside him. He couldn’t stop. He was drawn to something he knew deep down he didn’t want to see. Birds scattered as he neared.  The girl’s body rested between the exquisite tines of the stag’s antlers. There was no trace of blood, no perforation of the skin, no incisions. Her body was pale and cold. Pure.  No wounds at all, and yet she was unmistakably dead. Will swallowed and forced himself to look at her face.

Abigail.

Her eyes were open but vacant. Her lips seemed soft and inviting but there was no breath to beckon him—no heartbeat to warm her skin. He reached out to touch her hand. He wanted to comfort her, hold her, tell her he had failed her, but her body moved out of reach. Will watched as Abigail Hobbs began to rise into the sky. The sun beat through her thin nightgown, making it sheer. The light glowed around her as she hovered above his head. She extended her arms and reached for him and Will could hear his heartbeat in his ears. Thump. Thump.  She wanted him. She needed him.

Tears welled in his eyes as he felt warm, hot breath on the back of his neck. He breathed out and began to turn slowly.  Tendrils of cooling breath floated into the air and he found himself face to face with a giant stag. He was beautiful, powerful and mesmerizing. Dark feathers rustled from his haunches. The beast’s cold eyes watched him, following every movement from the tip of his head to the nervous twitch of his fingers.

Will extended his hand to touch his nose but stopped as he felt a drop on his forehead. He glanced up as blood ran down Abigail’s arms and slid from her fingertips. Drip. Drip. Drip. Will could taste copper as it landed on his lips. His eyes fluttered as the droplets reddened his vision and ran down his cheeks.

*****

Will’s eyes fluttered as the droplets speckled his eyelids and ran down his cheeks. He blinked away the darkness as rain dripped across his nose. He lay flat on his back, looking up at the grey clouds of an early morning sky. Rain and wind rustled the leaves of the trees as the drops began to come faster. The storm was only just beginning but Will’s body was damp from dew and drizzle.

And sweat, he realized as he let his pupils adjust.  The rain felt cool on his face, calming, as he focussed on the shallow rhythm of his chest. Little by little, his pulse began to slow and his breath began to steady.  He could hear the wind shaking the trees and the sound of his own beating heart. His legs felt heavy and he reached to pet the fury body that lay across him. Winston whined as Will shifted and sat up. The stray nuzzled Will’s hand and licked at his fingers.  The ringing in Will’s head made him dizzy and for a moment, he was overwhelmed. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t feel. Every bit of him wanted to disappear. Sighing, he realized there was one person to turn to—one person who might understand.

As he stood, the first strike of lightening lit up the sky.

*****

Hannibal leaned against the doorframe, wearing a perfectly pressed dressing robe.  His hair was equally perfect and combed away from his face. A smile was hidden in the depth of the psychiatrist’s eyes, but Will didn’t notice and continued to stare at the ground through his sopping wet curls.  He swallowed and tugged at the sleeve of the old button-up he’d pulled on over his faded t-shirt. Rain dotted his slacks and his toes squished in his waterlogged sneakers with every step.

“You said your kitchen was always open.”

“And indeed I meant it.”  The corners of Hannibal’s lips turned up as he motioned Will through the door. “Come in. Dry off.” Will nodded and shuffled inside.

Hannibal watched as Will slipped off his shoes by the door, careful to keep the floor dry and clean. “Take a seat,” he called, slipping into the back room and returning with a bleached white towel. “Breakfast will be late, I’m afraid. Alas, I am not quite prepared for guests.”  He handed the younger man the towel and turned his attention to the coffee press. Will remained standing and wiped down his face.

“This towel is probably worth more than my car.”

Hannibal smirked as he measured the newly ground beans. With each scoop, he let the aroma overwhelm him. After a moment, he wrinkled his nose.

“You smell like wet dog, Will.”

Will rubbed the towel against his hair. “I guess that’s what sleeping outside will do to you.”

“Sleep-walking again?” Hannibal poured two cups, before retrieving milk and sugar.

“I woke up in a puddle in my yard with Winston on my lap. So yeah, sleep walking.”

“Dogs are loyal creatures. A stray to keep you warm, safe, even when you own body betrays you.” Hannibal handed Will his coffee and folded the towel neatly. “There’s a shower in the back if you’d like.”

“I don’t use other people’s showers,” Will said a little too quickly.

The psychiatrist took a long sip of the strong, smooth liquid. “An intriguing boundary, Will.”

“Too uncomfortable...too personal.”

“Too exposed?”

“Maybe.”

Hannibal grinned. “And yet you find yourself here, a place where you allow yourself to be exposed more than anywhere else.” He opened the fridge. “Do you like eggs Benedict? I have a side of bacon I’m eager to try.”

“Coffee’s fine. You don’t have to cook for me. I just wanted to be...away.”

“Nonsense.” He began to pull out ingredients and placed them on the counter. “There are few things more satisfying than dinner with friends.”

Will watched as he took a sharpened blade from its block and began to carve the seasoned slab of meat, shearing off thick slices and laying them out by the element. The man moved deliberately, precisely. Every action had a purpose—from a pinch of salt to the flick of a whisk.

“I could...make toast?”

Hannibal narrowed his eyes on Will with a smirk before turning back to his eggs. Will shrugged and sipped his coffee.

 “Tell me Will, when were you last satisfied?”

The younger man sputtered, feeling the hot liquid bite his tongue and burn his throat.

“You mean emotionally?” He coughed.

Hannibal continued to work without looking up. “Or physically. The two are rarely mutually exclusive. You’ve been plagued by emotional tension, which has manifested physically. Headaches. Sleepwalking. The mind and body are closely connected, yours more than most.”

“Are you saying I need to get laid, doctor? Is that a professional opinion?” 

“I’m saying tension must be released, Will, or the object will break.”

“So you think I’m broken. Jack won’t want to hear that.”

“Not yet, but you can see it yourself. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.” The bacon sizzled and hissed in the pan as Hannibal began to poach their eggs.

“I don’t do well with relationships." Will pulled a stool up to the counter. “Women...tend not to find broken attractive.”

“That is merely one ways of release. There are other things that make a man tick.”

“And what makes you tick, doctor?”

Hannibal plated his perfectly toasted muffins and topped each one with a thick cut of bacon. “Many things, Will.” He slid an egg on top and reached for the hollandaise. “A rare vintage of wine, the notes of an exquisite aria.” The sauce was thick and creamy with no sign of breaking and a reddish tinge. The usually yellow colour was replaced with something darker, richer, beautiful, as Hannibal drizzled it over their breakfast. He looked at it with a careful eye, studying his creation. “Preparing a good meal.

“Wine and food doesn’t get me off,” Will replied dryly as Hannibal placed the plate in front of him and took a seat.

“Then what about power? You gained pleasure from shooting Hobbs. It is only natural—“

“There is nothing natural about it. There is nothing natural about getting pleasure from taking someone else’s life.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Hannibal sliced through the delicate flesh of the egg, letting the yolk mix with the sauce. He easily cut through the juicy bacon and filled his fork. He chewed methodically, taking in all the flavours, savoring ever piece. “It’s dangerous to suppress your true nature. You can’t run away from what you are. Your body and mind have a way of bringing it back to the forefront.  You spent so much time looking into other people, Will. When was the last time you truly looked at yourself?”

Will took another swig of coffee. “I’m...afraid I won’t like what I see.”

Hannibal stood to fill Will’s cup. As he poured, he touched the younger man lightly on the shoulder. He could immediately feel the muscles contract and freeze.  His heartbeat quickened. “An unfortunate way to live. Before we can truly be content, we must first know ourselves.” He paused. “Eat your breakfast, Will, before it gets cold.”

The thick yellow of his eggs mixed with the sauce and pooled near the edge of his plate. He could taste a hint of pepper as it landed on his lips. “Thank you. This really is delicious.”

Hannibal grinned. “Sometimes a meal is just what the doctor ordered. Your shell is cracking, Will, and I would hate for you to become just another broken yolk.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New Crime Scene. Will sees more than he wants to. Warning: Non-con, violence

Will popped a handful of pills into his mouth as he stared out of the car window. They'd been driving for well over an hour and he began to fidget. He adjusted his collar and drummed his fingers to the rhythm of the wipers. They clicked back and forth, back and forth. He rubbed his eyes as they started to lose focus, blurring the lightening as it streaked the sky and reflected off the puddles on the road. He could feel the thunder pounding his head and hear the blood pumping through his veins. For a moment, Will didn’t know if what was real. Finally, he turned to the driver.

"Where are we going, Jack?"

"Out of town."

"Why?"

"I don't pay you to ask questions. I pay you to answer them."

Will smirked. "Actually, you pay me to do both."

Jack glared as he flipped on the turn signal. Will could see the strain in his jaw and the tightening of his knuckles. “Next time remind me to get you a cab.”  He turned the car toward the flashing lights and pulled into the parking lot of low-rise apartment building. Police stood by the entrance and an ambulance waited. Jack opened his door and stepped out of the car. “They think it’s the ripper. Are you coming or not?” Will swallowed another pill and followed.

“She’s on the third floor. The building doesn’t have an elevator so forensics started pulling prints from the banister, hoping they’ll get lucky.”

“If it’s the ripper, they won’t...unless he wants you to. Is there a reason we should suspect the ripper, Jack?”

“You tell me.”

Jack held back the police tape and let Will walk through. The apartment was small, with only an old loveseat to divide the living-room from the kitchenette. Rose petals littered the parquet floor, leading like a path. Will followed them, Jack on his heels, into the bedroom where the forensic team was already at work. White sheets were draped across the frame of the bed, carefully, artistically. A young woman with dirty-blonde hair lay on the bed, clutching a bouquet. Blood seeped from her abdomen, into the sheets that covered her. The killer had placed a white towel over her face.

“Samantha Wilkins, age 23. Lived alone. Super says she’s rented for a little over a year. The perp cut her open but the marks on her neck look like strangulation.” Beverley smiled as she plucked a strand from the pillow. “We were beginning to think you weren't coming, Will.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he muttered, running his hands through his hair and taking a step closer.

Jack stood in the doorway with his arms crossed. “Well?”

“He’s theatrical enough to be the ripper.”

“But?”

Will leaned over the body. He could almost feel her breathing. He took in every fold of cloth, and every mark on her skin. “I...don’t think it’s him.”

“That’s you’re conclusion? You don’t _think_ it’s him?”

Will shook his head, and squeezed his temples. “There’s something off...about it. It’s too...too...” _Gentle,_ he thought, as his mind flashed back to the first time he saw a dead girl lying silently, peacefully in her own bed. _Kind. Sweet. Loving._

 “Will?”

“It’s not the ripper.”

“Then who is it?”

“I don’t know, Jack.”

Jack scowled but spoke calmly. “Everyone clear out. Let these two have some time alone.” Beverley touched Will’s shoulder as she left, but he didn’t respond. “Take all the time you need, Will. We’ll be right outside.” 

Will nodded as he closed his eyes and took a breath. Blood rushed in his ears and his heart thumped. He heard the buzzing of his own brain—thinking, working, struggling. As his eyelids fluttered open, silence took over. When his eyes opened, he was someone else. 

The white sheets fell from the bed, tucked back onto their shelves, and revealed the gruesome sight underneath. The young woman’s, Samantha’s, stomach was torn open, organs slid from her body and onto the slip of her mattress. The strokes were crude, clumsy, amateur—but Will didn’t look for long. He knew how it had happened and saw it undo. The pale skin folded back into place, the blood was erased from sight, and her chest rose up and down slowly. It was his design. 

He backed up further and further until the entire picture was clear. His brain hummed as he began to see. 

_We come in the front door together. Dinner. A date. She holds onto my shoulder because she trusts me just enough. Her head is swimming. She can’t seem to see straight and feels weak. She doesn’t know why. Her foot scuffs the floor as she stumbles but I catch her. She’s embarrassed but I don’t mind, and help her to the couch. She’s grateful. She needs me._

_I offer her a drink of water but she refuses. I pour two glasses anyway and sit down beside her. She leans against my chest, and after a few moments her eyes flutter as the drug does its work. I watch her...hold her. She is mine._

_I sprinkle petals across the floor and lift her up gently, carrying her across the threshold of the bedroom. She looks beautiful laid out on the bed but something isn’t right. I pull off her clothes, slowly, tenderly, one article at a time and toss them into the laundry basket by the door. She needs something special, perfect. I slip a white lace nighty over her head and run my hands across the curve of her hips. Her heart still beats slowly. Her chest rises and falls. This is supposed to happen. We must be together. Forever._

His hands worked quickly as he unzipped his fly and straddled the girl.

_She doesn’t struggle. She doesn’t scream. She’s content as I enter her and begin to rock, slowly, methodically. I wrap her legs around my waist and take her hand. I kiss her neck and down her shoulder. My breath catches and I can feel my need growing. I want to...I want to show her how much I love her. I’m breathing heavier now, faster. My hips thrusting and grinding as I prove that I care. She slides against the mattress but never tells me to stop. I’m panting now, moaning with each thrust. I can feel it building, burning, about to erupt. Soon we will be bound forever.  I hold her close and his her lips as sweat beads across my face. She loves me. This is my desi—_

The girl’s eyes flash open--cold, hard, judgemental eyes. The thin face of Samantha Wilkins warps into something more familiar. Her hair darkens and falls down to her shoulders. Abigail Hobbs reaches up and grips Will’s neck. He claws at her hand but she is too strong. She forces him to his knees. The young girl’s eyes are wild, dark, and red. He tries to speak. “Please,” he whispers into the darkness but his words are muffled. “Abigail.”  As he chokes, he hears the ruffle of feathers. The stag stands by the girl, tall and proud. He stamps his hoof.

One. Two. Three.

One. Two. Three.

 

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Will looked out onto a busy street. Cars raced by, splashing water onto the curb. His head felt thick and heavy and rain had soaked through his jacket. As he blinked, he began to feel the chill in the air and in his bones. His feet ached, his head ached, and mind seemed numb. After a moment, he realized the buzzing was the sound of his phone. Clumsily he pulled it from his pocket.

“He..Hello?”

“Will? Will, is that you?

“Alana?”  

The voice on the other end sighed.

“Oh thank God.” He could hear the composure slipping away with every word. There was worry in her voice. And fear. “Where are you? You’ve had everyone worried sick.”

“Everyone?”

“Jack called in all hands, after you ran out. He said you just walked away and when he came to find your, you were gone. We’ve been looking for hours” 

“Hours...” He tried to think back, but it was a blur. He remembered the shabby little apartment, and the chilling scene inside, but after that it was darkness.

“Will?!” 

“I’m here,” he croaked, scratching his neck. “Just a little confused...I...I don’t seem to know where I am.” 

“But you’re okay?” 

He chuckled. “That’s debatable.” He squinted up at the street signs and read out the names. He’d never heard of them. 

“I’ll find you.” 

“There’s a watch repair shop on the corner.”

“Okay, I’ll be right there to get you. Stay put. Can you do that for me Will?” Her voice held a hint of condescension, like a mother talking to an unruly child, but Will couldn’t fault her.

“Yeah,” was the only reply he could muster. He heard her pick up keys and throw he purse over her shoulder.

 “I’ll be there soon.” 

“Okay.” He paused. “And Alana?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Don’t tell Jack.”

 

As he hung up the phone he noticed the flashing notification light. He dialed.

15 unheard messages.

37 missed calls.

Will licked his lips and looked to the sky. Tears mixed with the rain as it streamed down his face.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Wakes up to an intruder in his house. Hannibal has some kind words.

Will’s heart thumped and his head spun. He could hear the distant song of birds, and the familiar creak of the old house. Still, something was off. Goosebumps prickled his arms and a shiver ran up his neck. Panic flooded through him as he tossed aside his comforter and swung his feet to the ground. He plucked his glasses from the nightstand, still spotted from the rain. Silently, he stood, and carefully, step by step, he made his way to his closet. He slipped his hand inside, still watching the door. His hands shook as he gripped the baseball bat. It felt heavy in his hands, awkward, useless. He swallowed as he stepped into the hall.

The silence rolled over him like an unexpected wave. Fear came with it and lodged in the pit of his stomach. For a moment he couldn’t breathe. The dogs. He couldn’t hear the dogs.

He felt his knees weaken and he leaned against the wall to catch himself. What was he doing? How did it come to this? His eyes refused to focus. The room began to spin. He gripped and ungripped the bat, letting it swing in his hand. Simple noises flooded together and crashed in his ears—deafening. He squeezed his eyes closed, trying to shut out the sound. They echoed in his head, surrounded him, swallowing him. Breath by breath, it began to muffle and he felt like he was falling—as if he were underwater—drowning.  In the darkness, he could see eyes coming towards him. Slowly. Calmly. As red as blood. Sweat dappled his bare chest as he struggled for air. The flutter of feathers rippled in the air and as the eyes neared, Will could see the outline of antlers mixing with the darkness.

He opened his eyes and took a step forward, bat firmly in hand. This would not be the end of him. This was not his design. One step, and then another, and another. He raised his weapon. The floor creaked as he entered the living room. His eyes darted back and forth until they locked on the intruder. The man sat poised in a fraying armchair, his hands tucked neatly in his lap. Winston chewed lazily on a piece of meat at his feet. The intruder tilted his head until his calm eyes met Will’s erratic ones. His lips turned up into a smile as Will looked away.

“Good morning, Will.”

The bat tumbled from Will’s trembling hands.  

“I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Relief and anger bubbled in Will’s chest, escaping in a hiccup of nervous laughter. Gripping his knees, he shook his head. As the sound filtered back, he could do nothing. The dogs, and the birds, and the creak of the house. Normal. Ordinary. There was nothing. No threat. No danger. Only Hannibal.

He wiped his face and brought his hand to his forehead.

“Did you mean to kill me with a bat, Will?”

He ran his tongue over his teeth and licked his lips. “The thought had crossed my mind.”

Hannibal rested his chin on his steepled hands.

“There are more effective ways.”

Will took a stride towards the kitchen. “I’ll keep that in mind. Want some coffee?”

“Thank you, but I brought my own.”

“Of course you did,” He mumbled as he rummaged through his cupboard. He leaned heavily against the counter, letting the panic fade, as the coffee maker gurgled to life. “How did you get into my house?”

“I have a key.”

Will ran his hands through his hair. The curls clung to his damp face. “Yeah...I’m going to need that back...how long have you been here?”

“Not long. I thought it would be rude to wake you.”

“But not to break into my house?”

“Not in this instance, no.”

“And my dogs are...”

“Outside. Sometimes animals get restless. They needed to stretch their legs. I gave them food, water. Your strays are fine, Will. It’s not them you need to worry about.”

Will smiled awkwardly as he poured his coffee. “Let me guess.”His bare feet shuffled across the floor as he took a seat on the sofa. His nose wrinkled as he tasted the bitter brew. In his haze, he’d forgotten milk and sugar. Eying the kitchen, he swallowed it down, and set the cup down. “Jack sent you?”

“Jack called me, yes. But, this house call comes courtesy of Alana Bloom. She was quite distraught on the telephone. She’s worried about you will.” Hannibal took a sip from his own cup. “And honestly, so am I.”

Will patted the sofa cushion and Winston raised his head, dropping the chunk of sausage between his teeth. Hannibal shifted in his seat as the stray padded over to Will and sat at his side. Will scratched the dog’s ears. “So, they told you what happened.”

“They said you went for a walk.”

Will smirked.

“A long walk. I am guessing that you don’t remember very much of it?”

“None of it...what time is it?”

“11:30.”

Pink flushed Will’s cheeks as tension settled back into his shoulders. He rubbed his temple. “I...I have a class...I need to...”

“It has been taken care of.”

Will shook his head and attempted to stand. “No...no...I have to...if I don’t I’ll...”

“You are in no condition to teach.”

He picked up his coat from the arm of a chair. “I can still make it if I—”

“Are you planning to run a class in your underwear?”

“What?” Will looked down. His eyes widened in realization. He wore only a pair of tight boxer-shorts, which hugged the curve of his bum and the thin fabric left little else to the imagination. Again he swallowed, feeling the heat on his face.

“Sit down, Will.”

“I should...go change.”

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. Sit.” For the first time, Will could hear something hard in Hannibal’s voice, something stiff, frightening, powerful. “Look at me, Will.”

Will nudged his glasses up his nose. He didn’t want to look. Instead, he eased himself back onto the couch and took another gulp of coffee. Hannibal’s gaze held steady. Every inch of him wanted to shake it off—to run—to disappear.

“You are uncomfortable.”

“How can you tell?”

“Sometimes we must leave comfort behind us. Why is it you think you ran?”

“Ran?”

“Jack has shown you many crime-scenes, yet this is the first time you’ve walked away from one.”

“I didn’t...I didn’t walk away. I was there.”

“And then?”

“And then...and then I just...wasn’t.”

“You’ve spent a lot of time building walls, Will, and Jack is forcing you to pull them down. Brick by brick they’re crumbling, yet your mind is still shielding you from something.  What did you see?”

Will scratched his head and mumbled.

“Will?”

“Abigail Hobbs.” The words stuck heavy in his throat. “I looked. I saw him and then...then it was just...Abigail.”

“That isn’t so hard to understand. Your subconscious is substituting on victim for another.”

“He cared about her.”

“Like Garrett Jacob Hobbs cared for his girls.”

"Yes...no...he wanted to...to keep her...to love her.”

“Sexually.”

“Yes. He...he took her to dinner, gained her trust, and drugged her. Then he...”

“Had his way with her.”

Will nodded, biting his lip. “A polite way to put it...he was gentle...in his way...and...then he wrapped his hands around her neck...to keep her...before he cut her open...cut her open and...”

“ Took her uterus. And placed a vale over her face”

His eyes darted up. “How did you?”

“Freddie Lounds. A rude woman, but quite thorough in her investigations.”

Will chuckled. “Maybe Jack should hire Ms Lounds.”

“Freddie Lounds is impetuous, self-serving, and too hard to control.”

“You think Jack wants to control me?”

“Don’t you?” Hannibal stood and walked to the window. “This killer, he’s affected you because there is something in him you identify with, something that makes you look at yourself. What did he want with this girl?”

Rubbing his neck, Will looked to the ground. “I don’t know.”

“Will.”

“I just don’t know.”

“Don’t lie to me, Will. You’re only lying to yourself. What made him do this?”

“Now you sound like Jack.”

“This is not about Jack, or the girl, or Freddie Lounds. This is about you. What brought all of this to the surface?”

Tears hovered against red eyes and dripped down his cheeks as he closed them. He wrung his hands nervously and chewed his bottom lip. He chest rattled a he inhaled and his body trembled. “He...he didn’t want to be alone. Killing her...killing her was the same as keeping her. A daughter...a wife.” He looked as Hannibal knelt at his feet and placed a hand on his knee. “I wanted...he...wanted...someone to love him. He was...” Emotion welled in his throat, “creating a family.”

The older man brushed away a tear, his knuckle scraping lightly against Will’s unshaven face. Will looked away but Hannibal forced his gaze as he moved his hand to the younger man’s chin.

“There are two sides to you, Will—the man who wishes for normality, stability, balance, and the one who seeks answers, and aches for control. The one who scares you. The one you fear to become. Both sides claw at your sanity and without confronting them, you continue to fade, losing yourself in these other men.” Hannibal licked his lips and Will swallowed. “You are not this man, Will. And, you are not alone.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> um...basically Will masturbating in the shower...in a totally fucked up I see dead people sort of way...
> 
> This might be a bit disturbing and I'm not sure how to tag it...so empathic rape fantasy?

He stared at the ground as the water trickled down his abdomen, slipped through his coarse hair and down his legs before swirling into the abyss. It beat hot against him. His skin pinked as the shower pulsed, and steam curled in the air, fogging the small glass box. Will’s head felt heavy as he pushed his fingers through his wet curls, but the weight was nothing compared to the gnawing in his chest. Fear, doubt, anger. He couldn’t be sure which, but it made every breathe a chore and his body so weak he feared falling. Darkness invaded the outskirts of his vision as water dripped over his lashes.

Hours had passed since Hannibal pulled the door shut behind him, but Will could still feel the man’s hand on his knee and the heat of his piercing stare.  It was uneasy, like it always was when he looked at someone too closely, but somehow Hannibal’s gaze was different. He was looking too, ready, engaging. He was calculating and learning, just as Will was. Empathizing? Will shifted and shivered despite himself as he relived the moment. He was uncomfortable, uncertain, as Hannibal moved into his personal space. His heartbeat picked up as Hannibal’s fingers brushes against his skin. A violation of trust. A violation station.  

But calming. Touch had never been calming.

_You continue to fade..._

The words hummed in his head, as he closed his eyes.

_Losing yourself..._

He ran his hand lightly down the side of his neck and across his shoulder, toying with the knots and letting the water rush over his fingers.

_...in these other men._

His heart thumped as his hand trailed across his stomach, pounding like a hammer and seemed to echo in the sound of flowing water. Visions flooded back to him—back to the shabby little apartment with petals on the ground. Back to the blonde girl who lay nearly lifeless on the bed.

The killer unbuckles his belt and Will lets out a sigh.

_She loves me._

He kisses her perfect pink lips and runs his thumb across her nipple. Will glides his hand across his thigh, and between his legs, moving slowly, gently. Soon he begins to stir.

She needs me.

He presses his fingers inside of her, once, twice, again and again until her body betrays her. Now he has his proof that she loves him. She’s slick, wet, willing.  Will touches his swollen shaft as he straddles her. He rocks his hips as the killer begins to thrust. The man moves slowly, savouring every moment, enjoying every ounce of her flesh. He moves her hips, and arches her back. He whispers.

_I need you. You love me._

Will speaks the words out-loud as he thumbs the tip or his cock.

_We are together._

He bucks his hips, burying himself deeper. Harder. Faster. Over again. She doesn’t cry out. Will whimpers as his fingers dance across his sensitive flesh, matching the man’s rhythm. His own panting mingles with the sounds in his mind.

_We are family._

The killer grunts and Will moans. The killer moans and Will gasps for air. The killer cries out and Will’s legs begin to shake. He can feel himself ready to break. He wants it but he wants something else more. Will tips his head back, letting the water spill across his face. The killer leans in, still rocking, still panting. He wraps his hands around her neck and squeezes. His eyes are focussed and he watches, waiting, knowing. His body aches and it’s finally time. She shudders as the life flows out of her and with one final grunt—one final thrust—he throws his head back and matches her. Euphoria spreads across his face.

_Forever._

_This is my—_

**No!**

Will’s voice echoed into an empty house, as he lunged toward the tap. Panting. Needing. His face was hot and red. His head pulsed and his cock throbbed. With one quick turn, a rush of frigid water cascaded over him. Each droplet pricked like a needle. The shock burned his skin and his throat but he didn’t care. It was relief he wanted. His mind screamed.

**Vile. Disgusting. Evil.**

He dropped to his knees as his legs gave out beneath him. His stomach heaved. Goose-bumps climbed up his calves and across his shoulder, but he let the water run. He began to shiver and shake but still he stayed. He wanted the water to consume him, cleanse him, and make the thoughts disappear. Images of sex and death blurred in his psyche, but it wasn’t enough. He could taste the girl’s sweat and hear the killer’s voice. He knew it all. He felt it all. He saw it all. As the shower sputtered, a sob racked Will’s body and he pulled his knees to his chest. The clock ticked by as he waited.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Life+He-Ate-Us makes me unproductive.
> 
> Short scene with the science team.

The science team looked up as Will entered the lab. His hair was still wet. The dark circles under his eyes gave him a haunted look—a man not quite himself. He knew what the wrinkles in their foreheads meant, and the clenching of their fists. Silently, he crossed his arms and took a seat in the corner, unsure of what to say. They thought he was a liability and he doubted any words could change their minds. A part of him wondered if he even wanted to. Were they so wrong?

“You don’t have to be here, Will.” He couldn’t look at Beverley as she pulled the sheet from the body. Her voice was quieter and more restrained...because of him. He hated that. “Jack will—”

“Jack has nothing to do with it.” Will shifted in his seat and forced a smile. “I’m more useful here than I am sitting at home.”

Beverley nodded, but the other two didn’t look convinced. “We found half a dozen partials and a few hairs on the pillow.”

Zeller smirked. “The ripper is getting sloppy.”

“The ripper didn’t do this.”

Price crossed his arms. “He displayed her body, cut out her uterus, and sprinkled rose petals all over the floor. What about this doesn’t say ripper?”

“Everything.” Will paused. His mind raced back to the crime scene as he stared blankly at his colleagues. “The petals weren’t all over. They were a path, a trail, leading us to her. Celebrating her. This was her day.”

“She was drugged.  We found flunitrazepam in her blood.”

Will stood slowly and walked to the body. “He wanted to keep her. He thought she was his.”

“A boyfriend? Fiancé? She was wearing a ring on her left hand.”

“The wrong hand.” He leaned in closer. “See the tan line on her right index finger. That’s where the ring  belongs.”

He licked his lips as he felt Beverly’s hand graze his back. She leaned in too, eyeing the faded mark. “So he took switched the ring while she was unconscious. Why? To throw us off?”

“A proposal. He wanted to walk her down the aisle...he did, sort of...carried her across the path of petals and over the threshold. He put her in white, placed the towel, a vale, over her face. Then...he consummated.”

“He created a wedding.”

“He wanted her with him.”

Zeller shook his head. “So why would he then carver out her uterus?”

Will’s lips turned up, into a sad smile.  “First comes love, then comes marriage...”

Beverly picked up the woman’s chart. “Hormone levels are abnormal. We’ll run the blood, but she could be pregnant. Alcohol in her system too. She might not have even known.”

“She knew. She didn’t care. A baby wasn’t in her plan.” Will began to pace the room. “There were no pictures in her apartment. No signs of a relationship. Vulnerable. She went on a date with our killer, had a couple drinks. She had no intention of keeping it.”

Zeller raised his eyebrows, “So we’re looking for an anti-abortion vigilante?”

“For someone who would know that our victim was pregnant. Knew that she fit his mould.”

“A doctor?”

“The work is too crude for that.” Price interjected. “No medical skill. He basically ripped her apart.”

The three began to debate and plan while Will slunk to the corner. His head pounded so hard the floor seemed to shake. He blindly pawed against the wall, hoping to find a way to hold himself up. His fingers gripped a divot but it wasn’t enough and he fell to his knees. The room spun.

Sound weaved in and out, but he could hear the echo of Beverly’s shoes against the cold floor. Her arm draped over his shoulder and her fingers took his pulse. He looked at her but couldn’t focus on her face.

“You’re burning up Will.”

 “Someone...left him. Someone took away...his family. This is his way to get it back...he...doesn’t want to be alone anymore.

“Well, no one’s leaving _you.”_ Beverly shifted her weight as Will leaned against her. Price and Zeller stood stone still. “I’m taking him home. Try not to break anything until I get back.”

They both nodded as Will found himself standing. She slowly led him to the door, carefully, caring. In the jumble of words swimming in his head, Jimmy Price’s rang clearest.

“He took a uterus. I swear to God, if another guy is eating people I’m done with Baltimore.”


End file.
